


Talk To Me

by asbestosgang



Category: Red Letter Media, RedLetterMedia RPF, redlettermedia
Genre: Fooling around at work, Gay, I don’t even know, Lightning Fast verse, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, blowjob, but let’s say they’re in love, handjob, i don’t really get into it, sort of established relationship, spitters are quitters, very unprofessional
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-04
Updated: 2019-10-04
Packaged: 2020-11-23 03:17:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20885258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asbestosgang/pseuds/asbestosgang
Summary: This one gets sexy. Don’t read it if you’re, like, twelve I guess. Mike gives Jay a BJ, and there is absolutely no plot.





	Talk To Me

It started with a bet.

Then Mike sucked Jay off in the repair shop.

It was a slow day. Actually, it had been a slow month—maybe even a slow year. The days had been blending together for a long time now, in a beer-induced blur of being in love with Jay and bullying him for liking artsy horror movies. No one was in the shop, and Mike figured no one would be for a very long time.

“I’m fuckin’ boooored,” he complained, slamming the bottle opener against the desk. Jay rolled his eyes, sipping his own beer like it was a fancy martini and lying back as far as he could against his chair, which was about two inches. Mike chugged his bottle till it was empty, tossing it flippantly behind him and feeling satisfied by the resulting crashing sound.

“I’m not cleaning that up.”

“Didn’t ask you to, ya fuckin’...Jay.”

“Good one.”

“Agh, shut up,” Mike griped, but he wasn’t really mad. He could never be really mad at Jay. He liked him too much. Mike liked his voice. A lot. He liked when he talked. He wanted him to talk more, but he didn’t know how to make him.

“Talk...talk to me.”

Maybe he was drunk.

Jay seemed amused, his lips curling into a smile, or maybe a smirk. He was too far away, and Mike was too drunk to tell.

“About what?”

There it was! The voice! It was such a good voice. Mike didn’t know what it was about it, but he loved it. Jay’s voice. But that was only two words. He wanted to hear more.

“I don’t...I don’t know, just talk. Just...talk about...um.”

Mike scrambled to think of something Jay could talk about for a very, very long time, before it hit him. Damn, the alcohol was slowing him down. It was obvious.

“Horror movies.”

He hit the nail on the head—because, to be fair, it was a damn big nail. Jay lit up like a fucking Christmas tree, and Mike wanted to kiss him, but then he wouldn’t be able to hear his voice, and that was the whole point of all of this.

“Actually, I guess I’m glad you asked, because I recently saw...” Jay started talking, and there was no stopping him now. Mike just watched and listened, content to be in love with his beautifully odd coworker—until a strange, filthy idea slithered into his brain and stayed there. Mike was drunk. That was a good enough excuse, right? Before his common sense could catch up to him, Mike stood up from his chair, swaying over Jay, who stopped talking to look up at him in confusion.

“Keep...talking. It’s fine,” Mike slurred, but Jay looked suspicious now, worried he was being made a fool of.

Mike sank down to his knees in front of Jay’s chair, and Jay’s face caught fire.

“Mike?”

Sharp, suspicious, curious, (hopeful?), confused. God, he sounded amazing. But it was just one word. Not enough.

“Keep talking. I want...I want you to talk.”

Mike had to rest his head against Jay’s leg, trying to keep the world from spinning around him. He was wearing shorts today, and Mike could feel his bare skin against his cheek.

“Hey, are you okay?”

Sincere, worried, still a little suspicious. That was Mike’s fault. He’d probably played one too many jokes on him. His hands moved on their own, because even though the floor was warping and twisting itself below him, goddamnit, he was going to do what he came to do.

Jay inhaled sharply when Mike unzipped his pants, but he didn’t stop him, because Jay was a weirdo like that—not that Mike didn’t fucking love that about him. He tugged Jay’s pants down, nearly yanking him off the chair in the process.

“Mike, hang on, what’s—what’re you—“

“If you stop talking, you owe me twenty bucks.”

Mike hadn’t planned on saying that, but he was glad he did.

“And...if I don’t?”

“I’ll owe you twenty, idiot. That’s how bets work.”

There was a pause.

“You’re on.”

Jay was greedy, and the offer of twenty whole American dollars on the table seemed to snap him into focus. Mike grinned wickedly, and Jay sneered back, his eyes sharp and sly, caution thrown to the wind.

“As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, a lot of the subtext in...” Jay started talking, and Mike started moving again, this time pressing his lips to Jay’s thigh. It was warm and pale, and the skin was pliable yet firm. It was...weird. He hadn’t known what to expect, but he wasn’t sure it had been this. Not that Mike minded. He carefully bit at the skin of Jay’s thigh, and heard his voice crack.

“Fuck,” he muttered, and Mike stifled a grin.

“You’re not giving up yet, are you?”

“Sh-shut the fuck up, asshole. I’m fine,” Jay retorted, but his face was red and his breathing was shallow.

Though Mike would be more than happy to just kiss Jay’s thigh like a gentle lover, his lower half was telling him to get on with the show. And judging by the tent in his boxers, Jay was getting impatient too.

Mike reached up, his hand brushing against Jay’s hips as he tugged at the waistband of his boxers.

“A-and the...another example would be...”

Jay’s boxers were down past his knees now as he kept talking, and Mike was staring at his dick. It was big. Not huge or anything, but considering Mike had never given a guy a blowjob before now, it might be a little much for him.

Jay seemed to notice his hesitation.

“Hey, you can just give me the twenty now. No shame in it.”

He spoke gently, sincerely, but he had a smug grin on like he’d already won. If Mike gave up, Jay would never let him live it down, especially considering he was the one who started all this.

“Fuck you,” Mike snapped, taking the tip of Jay’s penis in his mouth. The effect was immediate; Jay squeaked like a plush toy, gripping the sides of the chair so hard his fingertips turned white.

Mike licked a stripe up the side of Jay’s dick, watching him struggle to maintain his composure.

“The-the...uh...fuck, Mike, I—“

“Don’t stop talking,” Mike cooed, taking back control of the situation. Jay didn’t seem to care, one hand on Mike’s head, tugging his hair. Mike gave him what he wanted, taking Jay’s cock back into his mouth.

It tasted weird, like Jay’s thigh. It tasted...like Jay. Nothing more, nothing less. Just like Jay’s voice was his own, and Mike loved it. He wanted to catalog the memory in the back of his mind, to save it for later. He tried to take in more, moving his head slowly towards the base of Jay’s dick, tongue wrapping around it. It was kind of like an ice pop, if he had to compare it to something—and Mike was sucking on it like it was the best damn thing he’d ever tasted. Right now, it kind of was. It was warm, and he could feel it pushing against his throat as he struggled to take all of Jay in his mouth.

Tears sprung to his eyes as his gag reflex fought him, and damnit, this isn’t how it was supposed to go. It was supposed to be the other way around—it usually was. Mike wasn’t supposed to be the one trying so hard. But here he was, spreading Jay’s legs apart with one shaky hand while the other palmed at his own erection because he couldn’t get enough of this, of Jay.

Jay was still talking, amazingly enough, but he hadn’t been making sense for a while now.

“Fuck, Mike, that—you’re, ah, I’m not, ah, god I have to—fuck, you’re so good, oh god you’re good...” He rambled, his hand yanking roughly at Mike’s hair as he scrambled for something to keep him grounded. Mike moaned, and Jay doubled over, grabbing Mike’s head and shoving him down to the base.

“Ah, d-don’t moan like that, I just—ffffffuck, Mike, I—I don’t think, ah! Mike, god, I can’t-“

Mike would be more excited about seeing Jay at his edge if he wasn’t so busy trying not to choke. He tried to pull back, but Jay’s hands had a death grip on his head, holding him in place. Slowly, he started thrusting himself in and out of Mike’s mouth.

He‘d never been on the other end before, on his knees, his jaw aching, throat sore, tears in his eyes as Jay fucked his mouth, moaning nonsense and half-attempts at encouragement, making the most beautiful sounds Mike had ever heard, and even though his ego was stinging he realized that he would be submissive all the time if it meant he got to hear Jay like this.

“You’re so good, so—ah! M-Mike, you—this is—ah! Ahhh, ah, okay, ahh fuck, fuuuuuck, I need—Mike, I—“

Jay’s voice started breaking as he reached his climax, and Mike felt a warm liquid shoot down his throat before he could pull away. He hummed in ostensible distaste, and Jay managed to look a little guilty through the haze of his orgasm, slumped in his chair. But really, Mike didn’t mind at all. Not that he’d ever let Jay know.

Mike pulled slowly off of Jay’s spent cock, excess come dripping down from the corner of his lips. He wiped it away, groaning softly as he remembered his own poor, neglected dick, straining against his pants. He wondered if he could get away with just jacking off here in front of him—but Jay was already tugging his boxers and pants back on. Reluctantly, Mike struggled to stand up.

Before he could, Jay shifted out of his chair to sit on his knees in front of Mike.

“Sit...it’s okay, sit back down,” he slurred, still looking blissed-out. Mike obeyed, and now it was his turn to be thrown off his rhythm. Jay’s hand reached up to stroke at Mike’s erection through his pants. Mike gasped, not daring to move, in case he scared Jay off.

“Here, take...un-unzip your pants.”

Again, Mike obeyed, barely breathing. Jay tugged his boxers down just enough to reveal his cock, and seemed almost intimidated by it. It was the one thing Mike had over any California big hunks that he figured were Jay’s type.

“Oh. You’re huge...fuck.” Jay muttered, shuffling closer to Mike and starting to stroke his dick.

His hands were warm and kind of sweaty (not that Mike was complaining) as he traced his fingers up Mike’s length, a little shyly. He kept talking while he did it, like he wasn’t sure if the bet was still on or not.

“I never...I’ve never given a handjob before...I mean, it’s different from jacking off, I think. Maybe...”

His voice was quiet now, like he was talking to himself, as he started pumping Mike with more conviction. Mike tried not to moan, because he was worried Jay would make fun of him (he never hesitated to deal low blows when it came to damaging Mike’s ego). But Jay’s thumb swiped over the tip of his cock just so, and Mike couldn’t help it—he let out a sharp, quick groan, his mind going fuzzy. He thought he saw Jay smile.

“Hey, it’s okay. I don’t mind. You’re okay, be as loud as you want. I mean, I’ll definitely make fun of you after, but, y’know, I’m not gonna stop you.”

To his rational mind’s chagrin, Mike was too far gone to care about what he sounded like anymore, letting out sharp grunts and drawn-out moans and Jay’s name, over and over again.

Jay’s hand got quicker, slicked up by the precome dribbling out of Mike’s dick, and Mike started losing his mind. He fell back to lean against the desk, his head tilted up and eyes falling shut. He was having trouble processing all of it, on the verge of sensory overload—Jay’s hand pumping Mike’s cock to a careful, steady rhythm, still talking, leaning in to press his face to Mike’s neck, whispering things against his skin, his breath hot and wet. If Mike had been aware enough to notice him, he might’ve blushed. Finally, Mike drowned him out with his own voice as he came, spilling over onto his shirt and Jay’s hand.

“Shit, shitshitshitshit...” Mike mumbled, body feeling light and disconnected. His head lolled to the side, and he let out a long sigh. He opened his eyes to see Jay staring at the come on his fingers, like he’d never seen anything like it before. Slowly, he drew his hand to his face, licking it away. Mike watched him, a hazy, embarrassed grin stretching across his face. When Jay realized he had an audience, he promptly smeared the rest on Mike’s shirt.

“So. I won,” Jay reminded him, wiping his hand on his shorts. Mike tried to clean his own come off his shirt, because it looked unprofessional, and he was never unprofessional.

“Damnit. Yeah, you did.”

“What, you thought I couldn’t do it?”

“That’s why I made the bet, dumbass.”

It wasn’t, but Mike wasn’t going to tell Jay that.

“You got my twenty bucks, then?” Jay cooed. Cocky, smart ass, slick Jay, who always had to be better than Mike in every way possible. Of all the people to be in love with.

Mike reached forward and tugged Jay into him, kissing him sweetly. Jay yanked himself away, wiping his mouth.

“Ugh! You fucking asshole, you still taste like...my...” he blushed and fell silent, realizing what he’d been about to say. Mike gave him a shit-eating grin.

“About the twenty bucks, I don’t have it on me right now...”

“Oh, you DICK!” Jay was laughing, punching Mike in the shoulder, and that was when Mike realized he loved the sound of his laugh, too.

**Author's Note:**

> Anyways, I think if given the opportunity any sensible man would give Jay a blowjob. (Don’t tell anyone I said that.)


End file.
